


Seven Loves

by HMS_Chill



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Fluff without Plot, I love and support my disaster children, If you look up sappy in the dictionary you get this fic, It's gonna get angsty later tho, M/M, This is the SAPPIEST shit I've ever written, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, both montague sibs are learning to be better, felicity is learning and I'm proud, like right after GG, like so much god damn fluff, monty is so very in love, no big plot just fluff, one of them is 'love of self' and oh boy, set in Greece; between GG and LG, she's a disaster too but better at hiding it, that's gonna get angsty my guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMS_Chill/pseuds/HMS_Chill
Summary: Ancient Greek had seven words for love. Before they leave Greece, Monty plans to explore them all





	1. Eros: Love of Body

Of course I love Percy's body. I can't remember a time when I _didn't_ love his freckles or his eyes or his hair, but since arriving in Greece, our feelings confirmed and our hearts light, I've gotten to fall in love with more of his body than ever before.

-

I've gotten to fall in love with the blush that appears on his cheeks whenever Felicity finds us in bed or otherwise being incredibly sweet together. It's the most wonderful shade of red I can imagine. I want to cover my life in the red of his 'your sister found us together' blush, just so I can revel in the memories of time we spend together and the terrors we inflict upon my sister.

That blush in particular is a private one, a blush that the outside world will never get to see. It is a blush shared between us and Felicity, and I love it all the more for that. Especially as Felicity is usually turning away by the time it appears in earnest, and we are rarely anywhere near a glass, so I may very well be the only person who has ever seen Percy go this exact shade of red. It is a shade that belongs to me, and to the two of us alone, and I would lose my ear again before I let anyone else in on that secret, private little blush. 

It is mine, or maybe ours, but I am in love with it either way.

-

I've gotten to fall in love with Percy's hands as they rest at my side, ready to help me when the world goes sideways. Those hands, with their calloused fingertips and their long fingers, are the most beautiful hands I can imagine. When we walk, they all but beg me to grab them, to fake a dizzy spell so I can hold them and keep him close to me. At dinner, when one rests between us as he chews, it calls for me to rest my hand on top of it just to feel the perfect fit of his fingers in mine. Percy's hands are sculpted masterpieces, tributes to the wondrous things that humans can be. As Felicity studies the anatomy of the human hand, I memorize the movements unique to Percy's.

I memorize the way he moves his fingers against his leg when he thinks no one's watching, pantomiming chords to a song only he knows. The way his fingers splay when he rests them on my chest, a perfect mirror of the moment in Paris that he told me to stop, my heart thumping beneath them. The specific way he holds his hand when he lets Felicity study it, testing her knowledge of its bones and tendons. He holds one hand still for her to pace around, her fingers brushing against his, tracing bones and tapping joints, listing the names of each. He holds a diagram in his other hand, ready to correct her if she's wrong but never really needing to.

More importantly than the way they look, I memorize the way his hands feel on me. I memorize the feeling of Percy's hand on my back, steadying me when the world tips and turns. The brush of the back of Percy's hand against mine as we walk close together, too public to link our hands but both craving reassurance that the other hasn't left. The way his hands rest on my shoulders when he stands behind me, and the way his fingers tap my hand when I've missed something happening on my deaf side. Every tiny touch is burned into my memory, stored away somewhere safe in my mind as I fall more and more in love with Percy's hands and the way they feel on my body.

There are other touches, too, of course. Those touches, the ones that come only when we are alone at night, are equally wonderful and magical. I am in love with Percy's hands when they hold my arm, but I am infinitely more in love with them when they hold other things.

-

I've fallen in love with Percy's lips, especially the way they feel pressed against mine. There was a time when I was rather obsessed with Percy's lips well before I knew how they fit on mine, but I have become downright infatuated with them since Paris. Knowing exactly how wonderful our lips feel together, and that it is better than I could have ever imagined, has only made me fall more in love with them. There are times I think I would be happy to simply bask in the glory of Percy's lips for the rest of time.

Sometimes, when he talks to me, I simply stare at the lips I've fallen in love with. It is wonderful to watch those lips smile, or laugh at a joke he's made, or simply form words in one of the many languages he knows. I could watch Percy's lips move for years without beginning to get bored. They are so beautiful, and they fit so beautifully on mine, that I can't help but adore them. I tell Percy that I watch his lips so that I can learn to read lips now that I'm deaf, and if he notices that I never try to read anyone else's lips, he doesn't say anything.

It is important to note here that I am equally enchanted by Percy's lips when they're not talking. Even still, Percy's lips hold a certain charm, but they are exceedingly lovely when he doesn't pay attention to them. As he relaxes, his lips are more likely to move on their own. He'll mumble to himself, or bite at one absently, or smirk at a little private joke, and I'll fall in love all over again.

Best of all is when he kisses me. When those lips are on my face, I love him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. When they leave lovely little dots across my neck and shoulders, marks I find the next day and keep poking to remind myself that this is real, I love his lips more than anything. When his lips meet mine, no matter the context, I think I may explode from loving him so much.

Of course, I am equally in love with his lips when they're lower on my body, wrapped around something a bit more sensitive than my shoulder.

-

I fall in love with his eyes, the most stunning brown I have ever seen (apart from the brown of his skin or the brown of his freckles; those are equally stunning). For the first time, I let myself stare into his eyes, picking up on all the ripples and flecks of color they contain. Percy's eyes are infinite universes of rich, earthy complexities. They are the brown of garden earth and maple syrup, shifting and glittering in different lights. I could fill volumes upon volumes with words describing Percy's eyes and I would still never have captured them quite right.

His eyes when he first wakes up are my favorite, because I can hardly believe I get to stare into them every morning. I know that he usually wakes up before me, but that only makes waking up beside him feel much more special and important. He waits for me to wake up before he starts his day. He told me once that he stays because he never wants to see a day without me there to enjoy it with him, and I remember it every morning as his eyes open and he gives me a sleepy little smile. Every other time I've slept with a boy, he would be gone when I wake up. Every morning, part of me expects Percy to be gone, too. There is no way that I can love someone this much and have them love me back. It isn't possible.

But every morning, without fail, Percy is there. He's usually dozing a bit, and I get to see his sleepy brown eyes open. I get to watch as they land on me, still a bit bleary and out of focus, and fill with so much love that I nearly cry. Every night, I get to watch those same eyes fight to stay open, slowly losing focus until they shut for good. I get to watch the moonlight sparkle on those dark eyes, showing their depths the way the sunlight shows their warmth. Every night, I get to kiss those closed eyes and murmur to a sleeping Percy how much I love them.

And just below his eyes are his freckles.

-

And dear god, have I fallen more in love with those freckles. I have tumbled, head over heels, in love with the national treasure that is Percy Newton's freckles. Every night, after he's fallen asleep, I lie awake to count them in place of sheep, trying to memorize the way they spread across his skin. I want to live my whole life in a moment like that, in silent adoration of the boy next to me and the gorgeous dots spread across his skin. I always fall asleep before I memorize them, and the next day he goes out into the sun, and by that night new freckles have appeared for me to commit to memory. Learning them all is a losing battle, but I refuse to give up the fight.

What is really magical about Percy's freckles, though, is the way they change. Not only are there the day to day additions as he spends more time in the sun, but the freckles go through a myriad of shifts and movements throughout the day. They change when he laughs, moving with his cheeks and climbing his face in his joy. They shift again when he looks at me, his smile softer and so full of love that I cannot believe it is directed at someone like me. When he gives me a little in-love smile, his freckles rest in happy little crescents, upside down mirrors of the gorgeous smile below them.

When he sleeps, his eyelashes brush his freckles like grasses waving against the night sky. It is a scene of perfection, one that I have committed to memory for any time I stop believing that there are soft and beautiful things in a world that feels made of sharp corners. There are a million tiny pieces of Percy that remind me of the world's beauty and goodness, but his eyelashes brushing his freckles while he sleeps is at the top of my list.

It is followed very closely by Percy's shoulder freckles. He says that he likes my shoulder dimples, and while they are certainly charming, they can't hold a candle to the way his freckles spread across his torso, a star map bigger and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. These warm Greek nights, he'll sometimes take his shirt off to sleep, and we'll both fall asleep to me tracing lines between the spots on his chest and shoulders. He doesn't believe me when I tell him that he is the most beautiful creature ever created, but it's true. He is the most incredible man I can imagine, and I know how I looked in my prime. 

-

Of course, I've fallen in love with some much naughter bits of Percy as well, but that is a love best kept between us and our bedsheets.

Suffice to say that Percy is infinitely beautiful, and I am in love with every bit of that beautiful body, from its blushes to its freckles to its naughty bits. And every night, I get to curl up beside him and rest my head on his chest, and his gorgeous arms (which I am also very in love with) wrap around me. Every night we get to create our own little universe on the bed in Oia, Santorini, and it is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for anyone hoping for something sexy here; I'm ace and they're teenagers.  
> -  
> Next up is Philia: Love of the Mind/Brotherly Love (Meaning Felicity makes an appearance!)  
> -  
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	2. Philia: Love of the Mind; Brotherly Love

I've learned to love Felicity on this little island, too, though I don't notice it at first. Loving my sister happens slowly, when I come crawling to her because my face itches and I want her to stop it or when she puts together a picnic for me and Percy and all but shoves us out the door so she can study. Piece by piece, I learn to actually _love_ my sister rather than simply tolerating or liking her.

It dawns on me that I love her the day she bursts into our little shared rooms, slams a book on the table, and all but shouts, "Apollo and Hyacinth. Achilles and Patroclus. Alexander and Hephaestion." Another book slams down. "David and Jonathan. King James and George Villers."

"Felicity, what's this?" Percy is flipping through the top book, which looks to be a Bible. I wouldn't mind, except that it means he's moved a hand out of my hair, and I was rather enjoying having it there.

"Men who loved other men. It's not just men, though. I've been looking, and I struggled through a very long and convoluted French conversation with the Greek owner of a bookshop across the island. La Mupain, the opera singer that Father told us about? She had relationships with both men and women. Sappho is a woman from Ancient Greece who wrote love poems to other women. Zeus had relationships indiscriminately with both men and women, and even bloody Shakespeare wrote sonnets to a man and a woman."

"So?" She looks at me, and for a second, it's with the annoyed glare I've come to expect when I ask a stupid question. Like she's going to huff and move on and leave me to try to piece together what this influx of information means.

Then her expression softens a bit, and she sits down across the table from us with a sigh. "So, people like the two of you might not be as rare as we thought. I doubt that men who love men, women who love women, and people who love both like you do are as rare as any of us thought, and they're certainly not new. I mean we all know about mollies, and the Clap House raid, but I thought that was... I don't know, maybe something new, or just an anomaly, but it's not. People like the two of you have existed since the dawning of our civilization, and they've been cut out of our history books the same way women doctors have been.  
"Monty, you said back in Barcelona that you thought you were unnatural. And I... I didn't correct you, because I think deep down I agreed. From a medical and biological perspective, it doesn't make sense, but... But I was wrong. _We_ were wrong. People like you are as natural as anyone else. I'm sorry I had trouble understanding everything; I'm... I'm going to learn to understand and be okay with it. I promise. It... I think it's probably going to take some time, but I love you both, and I'm going to learn to accept that you love each other and that's okay. This is the start of that."

In that moment, the knowledge that I love my sister comes crashing down on me. I love her for remembering that night in Barcelona, when we were both drunk and I was miserable, and trying to fix any mistakes she thinks she may have made then. I love her for trying to help me the best way she knows how. So I make a sacrifice of my own: I get up to hug her, leaving behind a wonderful seat on Percy's lap to do so. She sees me coming and tries to avoid it, then squirms out of the hug when I do catch her, threatening to take my other ear off if I don't let her go. When I do, she gives me a little smile, one that grows when Percy thanks her from across the table.

As I am trying to learn about types of love and to be a better friend and brother and partner and person, I try to puzzle out what went wrong. Percy's thanks made her happier than mine, but I can't imagine why. My hugs are an attempt to show her I care, but her protests have moved beyond the play-protesting I thought they were. It dawns on me suddenly that this-- the hugs, the offers to cuddle, the whole lot of it-- is not the way to love my sister. Felicity doesn't revel in casual touches or friendly contact the way I do. I've even seen her move a hand away rather than let it casually bump against someone's as they walk, while I am usually the one causing the 'casual' bumps. She isn't trying to drown out or undo years of bad memories of physical contact like I am, so physical affection doesn't help her.

So, while I would normally keep my sister out of our bedroom, that night, I ask Percy what to do. He knows Felicity better than I do, and he's better with people anyway. He always has been, and I have always admired it without trying to replicate it. Now that I am trying, I appreciate him even more: Percy is bloody incredible.

"How does she show you she cares about you? That's how you can tell what she wants. You want hugs, so you hug people all the time and hope they hug you back. Maybe Felicity's doing the same thing in another, less... hands-on way."

He's tired, so I let him drift off, casually tracing patterns into his chest. It stings my ego just a bit to think that maybe, Felicity has been trying to love me for ages but it hasn't translated well. That probably means Percy's telling the truth; the truth tends to sting my ego more than most things these days. I think of the book, of her having gone to a bookstore across the island and muddled her way through a French conversation that could have very well been pointless or downright dangerous. I imagine her, spectacles on, hunched over books looking for stories of people like us. She had to look here, because these are books no store would sell in England for fear of raids or manners societies or all manner of problems. She went through the whole hassle just so we wouldn't feel alone or temporary, and so that I wouldn't feel unnatural. Because she remembered Barcelona and wanted us to know that we deserve a place in this world. That we deserve to be here.

Something she said rings in my ear as I follow Percy to sleep: "you've been cut out just like women doctors". I think I might have an idea of how to love my sister.

-

The next day, I'm still a bit shaky on my feet. I don't pretend to understand how losing an ear means losing my balance, but it does, and it's a bother. I have mediocre balance, no Greek money, and no idea where the bookstore is. Not a single one of those barriers will stop me. Armed with overconfidence, shaky French, and Italian lire, I wander roughly across the island, eventually finding a bookstore. A bell above the door dings as I make my way in, trying to find the necessary French words to get my request across. The owner's French is almost as bad as mine, but we manage to get things passably sorted, and he points me to an aisle with the title of a book. I only find the one, and while I was hoping for more, I decide not to test my luck and buy that. I've made myself enough of a nuisance that he'll take my lire just to get me out. 

In my defense, I'm newly earless and off balanced, and knocking books off that shelf was hardly my fault.

When I get home, I hand the book to Felicity and say, "Agnodice. A woman doctor from Ancient Greece. I think the book is... is in French, maybe, but you've always been better at French than me. I mean you're better at everything than me; you're bloody brilliant, so maybe... I would have tried to find something else, but I knocked a shelf off one of the bookshelves, and I already didn't speak Greek or have Greek money, and I was afraid I'd be thrown out of the shop and I wanted to get you something. What you did yesterday, it... Perce and I both really appreciated it. Thank you."

"Thank you, Monty. This is... I... thank you."

And then, honest to goodness, my sister hugs me. It's awkward, somehow both too tight and not tight enough, all bones and elbows and a truly disastrous parting, but she's trying. I'm reminded of my conversation with the owner of the bookshop, when neither of us spoke the other's language but we were both trying our best. Maybe that's what my relationship with Felicity will be for the foreseeable future, neither of us sure, but both trying. Because I love her, I truly do, and I think she loves me. Maybe that's enough to bring us together, even after so many years of bickering.

Maybe, on this little island, we'll begin to speak each other's languages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every one of the people that Felicity mentions were either queer or rumored to be! Here they are again:  
> -Apollo/Hyacinth, from Greek mythology  
> -Achilles/Patroclus, from The Iliad  
> -Alexander the Great/Hephaestion  
> -David/ Jonathan, from the Bible  
> -King James/George Villers, English nobles c. 1611  
> -Julie "La Mupain" d'Aubigny, French opera singer who died in 1707 (which could be the year Monty was born. He absorbed her chaotic bi energy, and dear god was there a lot of chaotic bi energy to absorb.)  
> \- Sappho, ancient Greek poet   
> \- Zeus, Greek god  
> \- Shakespeare, English playwright/poet
> 
> I wanted so badly to include more recent people, like Wilde and Hansberry and Hurston, but alas, I am a historian at heart and they're from the 19th/20th centuries.
> 
> Agnodice, the woman doctor, is real as well! She saved tons of women from death in childbirth!  
> -  
> Next up is Ludus: Playful Love. I don't have anything written yet but I know it's going to be cute.  
> -  
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	3. Ludus: Playful Love

I'm not sure who began it, but not long after arriving in Greece, Percy and I have made a game of trying to make the other blush in public. I expected to be the winner every time. After all, I had quite the reputation for being naughty back in Cheshire, and I have the added excuse of my lost ear to conveniently stumble into him at awkward times. Percy has always been the quieter of the two of us, all good manners and pleasant conversation. Nothing blush-worthy at all.

As it turns out, Percy is rather surprising. 

-

The day after we begin our game, Felicity invites the crew of the _Eleftheria_ to have supper at our rooms rather than in the local tavern. She promises to cook, and Percy volunteers to help her. I am shooed out of the kitchen almost immediately, my lack of balance and the acidic tea I made in Barcelona equally disqualifying factors. Left to my own devices, I bore within minutes. Felicity has sent me to the yard, but there is nothing to entertain me there, so instead I make my way to the kitchen window to watch and pester the others. Percy is busy and I am audacious, so perhaps this is a good time to help myself score some points in our game. 

"Percy, darling, I am absolutely thrilled to see you working with your hands like that. Put your new abilities to good use tonight, will you?" I call. His eyes roll, and he doesn't look up from the bread he's kneading. Felicity throws an olive at me on her way to the stove. 

"Perce? Olive you," I tell him, grinning as I watch him suppress a groan. Still no blush; I'll need to take more drastic measures.

"Hey, Percy! Hey!" I throw a grape at him from the bowl near me, and it hits him in the forehead. When he looks up, I flash him my dimples and say, "You're grape."

"I'm grape?"

"Like 'great'! You're so grape it's raisin my--"

"Henry Montague," Felicity snaps. Percy has gone fantastically red, so my mission has been accomplished. I duck out of the way of the next olive Felicity throws, and she comes to shove plates into my hands and tell me to make myself useful. I go to prepare the table in the yard for our guests, chuckling to myself and exceedingly proud of having made Percy blush so easily. He doesn't stand a chance in our game.

-

He gets me back at dinner. We're reminiscing over our first meeting with the crew, our narrow escape from the navy and their poor attempts to imprison us, when Felicity begins my downfall.

"You know, we'd been through quite a lot by that point, but I think you were the first ones to tie any of us up. Congratulations on that, at least."

"Not the first to tie Monty up. Sinjon Westfall tied him to his bed back at eaton. With neckwear, if I remember the story correctly." Percy barely looks up from his food as he says it. There is no change in his tone, no indication whatsoever that he has said a single filthy thing. He just takes another bite, then turns to look at me innocently, as if waiting for me to explain. 

While I am not embarrassed of my past exploits or adventures, this particular one is not a situation that I am thrilled to discuss over a friendly supper, especially not one where my sister is present. I swear a member of the crew further down the table chokes on his dinner, but for a moment, that seems to be the worst to have come from Percy's revelation. For a second, I am allowed to hope that things will move on and I will not have to explain who Sinjon Westfall was or why on earth I was tied to his bed. Then, King George asks very earnestly if I was alright, and Felicity looks a bit worried as well. Percy smirks at his dinner, but he stays silent, leaving me to explain that it was part of a game the other boy and I were playing. Ebrahim gives me a knowing look, and I become as invested in my dinner as Percy and as red as a tomato. 

"I told you those letters were too much," Percy says, right into my bright red ear, and I kick him under the table. 

Our game is tied.

-

The next day, Percy wants to go on an adventure, so the two of us start out across the island. He leads the way to a beautiful hidden beach, then reveals that he's brought our lunch with him. We picnic on the beach, surrounded only by the ocean and some hungry seagulls. As we finish our food, I toss scraps to the birds while Percy lies back beside me. Everything is perfect until one of the birds I'm feeding sees food spill out of the bag beside me and flies directly at us.

I would like to state, for the historic record, that I don't squeal. I am a man who has faced pirates, highwaymen, angry dukes, thieftakers, Spanish jail, the royal navy, and Percy's morning breath. If I allow a rather undignified screech to escape my mouth in the face of an incredibly aggressive bird, I can hardly be faulted for that. I scramble away, and Percy opens his eyes just in time to roll the opposite direction. He pulls our blanket with him, upsetting the bag of food and spilling our leftovers all over the sand. The seagull that first came for us squawks, and the rest of his flock lock onto us. I take one look at Percy, and we run. 

He's got the blanket and bag in one hand, spilling bits of food after us as we sprint away from the ocean. Our shoes are further up the beach, and we divide to collect them before coming back together, feet sinking into the sand. I stumble as I reach him again, still off balance, and he grabs my arm to help pull me along. I follow him to the top of the first set of dunes, and we tumble down the other side, collapsing into a heap of limbs in the sand. The dune is to our backs, shielding us from the beach and the angry birds that inhabit it. 

Our eyes meet, and we're both flustered and panting, but then Percy starts to laugh and neither or us can stop. 

"I told you not to feed the birds," he says, breathless from either the laughter or the running.

"They were hungry! They needed our food; they would have starved."

"They're wild birds, Monty! They can feed themselves; they weren't going to starve."

"But what if they were? I was trying to feed the little ones that couldn't get food on their own. They were hungry; they can't compete with the angry big birds. I had to help them."

"Zounds, I love you," Percy mumbles, and for all the racing my heart's been doing, I swear it stops cold. I'd expected him to be upset; I've ruined our perfect afternoon and nearly killed us both via angry seagull. He should be shouting at me for wasting food or ruining his nap, but instead, he's propped up on one arm, smiling at me like I hung the sun in the sky.

I feel a blush spread across my cheeks, and I look away. He flops down onto the sand next to me, then tugs at my sleeve until I lie down too and kisses my cheek.

"You're an adventure, and you always have been. I love that about you. And you look nice when you blush."

He's winning, two to one.

-

After our adventure with the seagulls, we spend time resting on the safe side of the sand dune, trading nice thoughts and enjoying the time spent together. Eventually, we make our way back to the road, and Percy convinces a passing fisherman to give us a ride home on his cart. The two of them begin a conversation in a language that sounds vaguely like French, but my French is nowhere near good enough to keep up. Their voices are soothing, and the sun is warm, and after an early morning and spending the last week trying to re-learn how to walk, I am more tired than I'd like to admit.

I wake up with my head on Percy's shoulder. There's a hand playing in my hair, and I think it may be his. The sun is still warm on my face, and his arm is around me, and I feel so entirely safe that I forget we are somewhere public. I nuzzle closer to him and murmur, "I love you."

His hand stops abruptly. I open my eyes, just a bit, and the cheek I can see has gone fantastically red. He says something in a language that's not English, and I am reminded of the fisherman and the cart and the fact that we are very much not alone. I freeze for a second, then close my eyes and mumble a bit of gibberish. Percy chuckles a bit, and the hand goes back to stroking my hair. When the cart stops a few minutes later, he gives me a gentle shake, and I make a show of waking up before thanking the man who drove us. As we get inside the house, Percy turns to me to mumble, "We're fortunate he doesn't speak English."

"You're fortunate I gave you an excuse to cuddle me," I tell him, still half asleep. I rest my head back on his shoulder, and he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asks, kissing my forehead in a way that very nearly knocks my legs out from under me.

"Cuddle," I tell him, looking up with big eyes. He smiles, then suddenly he's lifted me up, his arms under my legs and around my shoulders so he can carry me to bed. I don't swoon, exactly, but I do go rather limp for a moment. Percy is so strong, and so beautiful, and he is holding me, and when he looks down there is a smile on his face. The last time I remember being carried, it was by an upset butler who practically dropped me on my bedroom floor to sleep it off. This is a much better experience, as Percy lays me in bed, then takes off my shoes before joining me. He wraps his arms around me again, and I melt into his warmth and love.

Before I allow myself to drift off, I have to tell him one thing:

"I made you blush in the cart. So I... I've made you blush as much as you've made me. So you're not winning anymore."

"Go to sleep, Monty. Worry about the game later."

I obey, but I obey with the knowledge that he is no longer winning.

-

With our competition tied, I need to do something drastic to make sure I pull ahead. My chance comes the next night, when Percy and I are going back to our rooms from the _Eleftheria_. We've had supper on board with the crew. Felicity left after the meal, accompanied by Ebrahim, Scipio, and the sounds of an argument about lady pirates, while Percy and I stayed behind to play games with the crew. Some of our stolen luggage included playing cards, so we play Whist as well as our usual dice games. Percy and I stay late, leaving as the sun sets so we can use its last light to guide us home. 

Unfortunately, that light is far from bright. It is purely because of the semi-darkness that I trip, perhaps compounded by my missing ear. The trip is completely unrelated to the fact that I was staring at Percy while it happened, my full attention and the entirety of my love focused on him as he looks up at the first stars coming out on the horizon. Whatever its cause, the fact remains that I trip, and rather spectacularly at that. I let out a cry, and Percy turns to look back at me, sitting on the ground and holding my injured foot.

"Everything alright?"

"I broke my foot!" 

"Your foot's not broken, Monty."

"It's shattered. I'll never walk again, and I was just getting so good at it."

"Monty, please. It's late; we... we need to get back before it's too dark. Let's go."

Percy's tone is enough to stop my admittedly over-dramatic antics, and I get up as well as I can. I have been through much, much worse than a broken foot, but I can't conceal my limp as I try to catch up. My entire foot may not have shattered, but I am convinced that at least three toes have. Percy notices my limp immediately, and though I insist I am alright, he makes me sit down so he can have a look. It's too dark for us to even get my shoe off smoothly, but not too dark for me to see the genuine worry in Percy's eyes. When I see it, I forget about the pain almost entirely. I have to do something to convince him that I am not hurt, and perhaps the antics I've abandoned are the perfect way to get him smiling again.

"Darling, I simply _can't_ go on. You'll have to lift me in your big, strong arms and carry me all the way home."

That gets a chuckle, but then he turns, offering me his back. I'm not entirely sure what to do with it until he turns and says, "Well, climb on. You're right; we're wasting time here and you can't walk back. We'll get a better look at your foot back home. Maybe Felicity will even look at it for you."

I don't need to be told twice. I clamber onto Percy's back, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he stands. 

"You are, unquestionably, the best person I have ever met. You're the best friend or lover or human I can imagine," I tell him, and my faces is close enough to his that I get to watch the blush spread across his cheeks. I lean in closer and whisper in his ear, "That's a point for me."

He pretends to drop me, and I let out a rather undignified screech and clutch his neck tighter. He laughs, and it fills the night, soothing my aching foot and making me fall even more deeply in love with him.

Even if he is losing our game.

-

I end the game the next day, essentially on accident. Felicity is looking at my foot in the morning light, judging if anything is seriously wrong from the swelling and the color as well as her feeling of the bones last night. 

"How did you manage to trip? We've traveled that path regularly since we got here and there's never been anything to trip over."

"Yes, well, you have to remember that I've recently lost an ear. That affected my balance, you said so yourself."

"You've been walking much better the past few days, though. You made it down without any problems last night."

"It was dark?"

"I know it was something else, Monty. Just tell me? If it's going to impact you or your balance or anything, I'd like to know so I can try to help."

"It wasn't... it's nothing medical. I was just distracted is all." She gives me an inquisitive look, and I explain, "It was just me and Percy, and he was gorgeous. He was telling me about the stars, and he knew some of the constellations, even here where they're all different. And he... I love him so much. I know you don't understand, but I do. I don't know how to describe it to you; it's like... like my love for him was a little seed, and every day he does a million tiny, wonderful things that water that seed, and now it's a huge plant that's wrapped around every part of me? No; that makes it sound dangerous. It doesn't feel dangerous. I know it is, kind of, because we're both lads, but it doesn't feel that way. It feels warm, and... and happy, like a hug. Except you don't like hugs. I'm going to explain this so you can understand, I promise, I just need to think.  
"It's like... like when we were children, and you would find a new doctor that you really liked. How you'd want to be just like them? And know everything about them and have them be part of your life. It's like that, except without wanting to be just like Percy. I mean I do want to be like him, because he's better than me at almost everything, but I don't want to be just like him. I do want him to be part of me in as many ways as possible, though. I want to know him more than anyone, and I want him to be with me all the time. Now that he loves me back, I... I can't believe it. I want to spend as much time with him as I can because he makes me feel like I can do anything. Does that make sense? I mean, I know he thinks I can do it, and I know he's cheering for me, and he's going to fight for me, so I can do anything I want as long as he's helping me.  
"He's just so wonderful, I couldn't help being distracted by him. I mean, he's so smart, and he always knows what to do, and he puts up with me even though I don't deserve him. But I get to love him anyway, and he's... he's incredible, and I know you know this, but he is. I can't believe I get to share my life with him. He's--"

"He's standing right behind you," Felicity says, "Has been for a while now; ever since your plant simile. Your foot should be fine; just stay off it and maybe prop it up a bit. You've just badly stubbed your toe."

I feel the heat climbing my face, and when I turn to see Percy he's also gone fantastically red. Felicity leaves the room with a pat on my shoulder, and Percy comes to sit near me with a shy smile.

"So uh, good news about my--" I don't get to finish before Percy's lips are on mine, and Percy is kissing me, and even after everything that's happened between us I have to take a second to get over my shock before I remember to kiss him back. 

"I love you," he tells me, breathless between kisses. "I love you so much. You are bold and gorgeous and I am absolutely in love with you."

"I made you blush again," I tell him when he pulls away for good, and he laughs. Just like last night, his laughter surrounds us, creating a perfect world for the two of us to share.

"That you did. You've won our game; congratulations. If your sister's gone out, I can give you a wonderful prize in our bedroom."

"I'm leaving now; be back hopefully never if you two keep this up," Felicity says, and I hear the door slam. Percy kisses me again, lifting me to his waist so I can wrap my legs around him and he can carry me to the bedroom without moving our faces apart. 

And then, he gives me a truly wonderful prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay; for some reason this just would not come together. The first two drafts got like... really angsty and dark, and then a whole later chapter came together before this did. So yeah, sorry about that.  
> -  
> My research for this was purely on etymology. Turns out in the 18th century, 'cuddle' was largely used in relation to children, so y'all escaped a truly angsty 'I was never cuddled' moment with Monty after their near brush with the fisherman.
> 
> That being said, if I messed up the history that's why; please don't hesitate to correct me.
> 
> Really any feedback is appreciated. Comments will often inspire a writing binge, and kudos make me happy.
> 
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	4. Pragma: Long-Standing Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for some casual homophobia and a lil bit of child abuse. The book is worse but just so y'all are aware Henri is in this chapter (and so is all the crap he brings with him).

I first met Percy when we were children, so young I'm not sure he remembers it. I'm not entirely sure if my memories of our first meeting are genuine or simply formed through hearing my mother tell the story nearly every year at Percy's birthday while we were growing up. We were barely three when we met, and my mother, very pregnant with Felicity, was tired of having me underfoot. She was too tired to find another servant to charge with entertaining me, and thought that maybe having child around would help tire me out. So she asked Percy's aunt to bring him along when she came for tea, changing the course of my life forever.

I hugged him the moment I saw him, which really is indicative of how our relationship turned out. We played together that whole afternoon, and my mother says she'd never been so thankful to anyone as she was to Percy for keeping me occupied and happy. I enjoyed playing so much I cried when he left. The obvious solution was for him to come back the next day, and as his aunt and my mother had tea regularly, it became routine for him to come over for afternoon tea and for us to spend the rest of the day together. I came to expect him, and would wait in the hall for the knock on the door that meant they had arrived. When the knock came, I would tug on the handle until an adult came to help me open the door, then I would hug Percy and we would run off together to do whatever it is that three year old best friends do. 

-

Percy was with me when Felicity was born. This I know I remember, because I remember being able to hear my mother screaming from her bedroom upstairs, and I remember being absolutely terrified. Percy had been coming over earlier than normal in the week leading up to the day Felicity was born, and I had never thought to ask why. But when I found my mother leaning on a table, holding her belly and clearly in pain, I was glad to have him with us. I ran to find him, and thankfully found his aunt as well, already beginning to cry as I told them what I had seen. His aunt gave us strict instructions not to go upstairs, then went to find my mother. Percy and I stood in a doorway and watched as they walked up the stairs together, his aunt yelling to a servant to get someone called a midwife and my mother taking deep breaths. They disappeared into my parents' bedroom, leaving me and Percy to worry. 

We crouched beside the staircase, listening to my mother scream and watching a steady stream of people move up and down the stairs between her room and the kitchen. A frazzled butler saw me crying and handed me a biscuit, and I remember holding it in one hand and Percy's hand in the other as I cried. During a particularly loud scream, Percy and I looked at each other and his eyes were just as wide and afraid as mine. He hugged me, though, and the world felt like maybe it would be okay.

After the screaming stopped, his aunt came to get us. She said that everything was alright, and we had nothing to worry about, and I had a new sister. The three of us went upstairs together, Percy still holding my hand, and his aunt ushered us into my parents' room, where my mother was resting, sweaty but smiling, with a bundle of cloth in her arms. Percy and I had become nearly inseparable by that point, so I doubt my mother was surprised to see us both appear at her door. She called us in, then bent down so we could see a little red face in the bundle she was holding.

"This is your sister, Henry. This is Felicity."

"Did she hurt you?"

"No, she didn't... well, she hurt me a bit, but every baby hurts their mother some. But I'm alright, and now you have a new little sister. Percy, can you see her alright?"

"She's so small," he said, "Is she supposed to be so small?"

"Yes; she's supposed to be small. Henry was about this big when he was born, maybe even a little smaller. But she'll get big quickly, and you two will have a new playmate before you know it."

I wasn't so sure about a new playmate for me and Percy, especially not someone as small as Felicity. But at the time, she was too small to play with us, so I joined Percy in just being interested in her. 

Eventually, we climbed into bed with my mother and she let us hold my new sister. We had to hold her together, and be very careful not to drop her or hurt her in any way. Percy's whole job was to hold up her head, because she was too little to even do that by herself. She slept, mostly, though she woke up once and started to fuss. My mother had fallen asleep by that point, doubtless exhausted after having given birth, and Percy and I were left to wonder what to do with a sleeping baby. I tried to put a finger over her mouth, and she wrapped a tiny fist around it and put it in her mouth. That was enough to stop her crying, so Percy and I sat with her head in his lap and my finger in her mouth until we were both falling asleep as well.

That may have been the first time we slept in the same bed, because Percy's aunt had gone home and it was too late for him to leave. I remember a nurse reading us a story, and Percy, dressed in my night clothes, falling asleep beside me long before the ending. I was awake long enough to notice him drooling on my arm, but not long after.

-

When we were old enough for them, we shared tutors. It began when Percy's left, and his guardians were unable to find anyone willing to tutor a dark-skinned boy on short notice. They sent him over to be taught with me until they could find someone, and both my tutor and I were absolutely delighted. I was admittedly not a very good student, but Percy has always been wonderful to everyone, and I was in the habit of mirroring his behavior around adults in order to stay out of trouble. We were together for about a week before his aunt and uncle found him another tutor, and after he left I overheard my mother talking to my tutor one day.

"I simply don't know what to do with him," the tutor said, "Percival keeps Henry motivated and focused. They help each other learn, and ever since he left Henry has become... difficult. I believe it would be best for Henry's education if they continued to be taught together. Percival brings out a studiousness I've never seen in him before."

This, of course, served only as motivation for me to act out when Percy was not around during my lessons. He rejoined me less than a week later, and eventually, our tutor simply gave up on trying to teach me without Percy there. I would act up constantly, refusing to listen to him, talking over him, and even getting up to leave in the middle of a lesson. In the end, I was allowed to skip a lesson when Percy was ill, which meant that I could visit him instead and was, truly, the best case scenario.

-

He's the one who gave me my nickname, when we were eleven years old. I've always called him 'Percy' rather than 'Percival', both because his aunt and uncle did and because 'Percival' is far too long a name for a three year old to say. But I was 'Henry' until we were eleven, and despite how much I hate it now, it didn't bother me until then.

By eleven, however, people had started to tell me that I looked like my father. At parties, they'd begun asking me if I wanted to grow up to be just like him of if I was excited to follow in his footsteps and run the estate one day. I hated it. I was trying to become my own person, not just an imitation of my father, so one day I decided with all the stubbornness of an eleven year old that I was not going to respond to his name any longer. I would no longer be 'Henry', and I told Percy as much when he came for lessons. He responded with, "Alright; I'll call you something else. Maybe 'Montague'?"

By the end of the day, 'Montague' had become 'Mont', and by the next day 'Mont' became 'Monty'. And suddenly, I had a name that was uniquely mine, given to me by the best friend a boy could have. As the years went on and my relationship with my father deteriorated, I became more and more grateful to Percy for my name. Having a name that does not belong to my father has come to mean more to me than either of us could have imagined.

Having a name that Percy gave me somehow makes it feel as though it belongs to the both of us, and that makes it even more special.

-

Speaking of things we call each other, I first called him 'darling' when I was first leaving for Eton. I wasn't completely in love with him yet, but I'm not sure there has been a time in our relationship when I wasn't at least a little bit in love with Percy Newton. My time at Eton would be the longest we had spent apart since meeting at age three, and we were both dreading it. He joined my family for breakfast on the morning I was to leave, and we both steadfastly ignored the fact that we would be spending months apart. 

We ignored it until we could not ignore it any longer, standing outside next to the carriage that would take me away from him. I remember vividly that I wanted to hug him, but my family was watching and I didn't know how they would respond. So instead, I put a hand on his arm and said, "So long, then. I'll see you at Christmas."

He raised a hand, and I thought maybe he would hug me, but he just put it on my arm and squeezed as he said, "I'll see you then, Monty. Be sure to write."

"Every week, darling."

He lifted his other arm, and again, I thought maybe he would hug me. I wanted so badly for him to hug me, but he patted my shoulder and let the arm fall. I almost hugged him, but I caught my father's eye over Percy's shoulder and I wasn't brave enough. I just smiled, and he told me to have a safe trip as I climbed into the carriage. My family went inside, but I turned to watch as Percy waved goodbye, growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared behind a curve in the road.

I would think about that missed hug quite a few times while I was at Eton, most notably while in the arms of Sinjon Westfall.

-

It was that winter that I first kissed Richard Peele, permanently ruining my relationship with my father and momentarily changing my relationship with Percy. For two days after the kiss and the scandal it caused, his aunt and uncle refused to let us see each other, and it was torture, mostly because I had no idea that they were involved in our separation. I thought that Percy had found out and just stopped wanting to see me. Those were the two worst days of my life. My father hit me after the party, only once but hard enough to scare me. I understood, for the first time in my life, that something about me was fundamentally broken. My mother and Felicity were no help; my mother was silent as always and Felicity didn't know that anything was wrong. And worst of all, I heard nothing from Percy. He'd left the party that night, and apparently left my life forever, without even a proper goodbye. I sent messages to him, and even went to his house, but it was no use. The messages returned unopened, and a stuffy doorman told me that Percy was too busy for me without even bothering to check. The only explanation was that Percy had found out about Richard Peele, and had learned that I was broken, and he was no longer interested in being around me. 

I spent those two days fully convinced that I was broken, alone in the world, and fundamentally unlovable. But on the second night, there was a tapping on my window, and I went to it to find Percy clinging to the tree outside. It was a rainy December night, and he was shivering, soaked to the bone. He climbed inside when I opened the window, and I wrapped him in blankets and went to get a cup of tea from a servant before he could say anything. He'd most likely come to tell me that he hated me, and I was wrong for ever having thought we were friends, and that what I had done with Richard Peele was unforgivable. Best to delay that as long as possible, even with something as simple as getting tea. He was already sneezing by the time I got back to the room, but instead of taking the warm cup of tea, he hugged me.

I think that's when I first started holding back the tears I would eventually cry under that bridge in Barcelona.

"I love you, Monty. My aunt and uncle trying to keep us apart won't change that, and neither will Richard Peele being awful or you kissing him. You're my best friend, always have been and always will be."

"But what if I want to kiss other boys? What if it's not just Richard Peele; it's... it's lots of boys, Percy. I want to kiss boys, even though I know it's wrong."

"I'll still be your friend, Monty. It doesn't matter to me who you want to kiss or marry or do anything else with. I'll still be your friend, because... because I know that the church says it's wrong, but I don't think it is. Not really, anyway."

We never talked about it again, but that night was the first time in years that I let myself believe that maybe I wasn't broken. If Percy didn't think there was anything wrong with wanting to kiss boys, then maybe it was alright. Maybe I was alright, and it was the rest of the world that was broken.

He spent that night in my bed, wearing a set of clothes he'd left in my room over the summer and covered in every blanket we could find. He still came down with a cold, and his aunt and uncle barely let me see him, but it didn't matter. I knew he wasn't angry with me, and even better, he didn't think there was anything wrong with me. We were back to being best friends, and we both had bedroom windows near very climbable trees. Nothing could keep us apart.

-

Richard Peele was followed by a host of others, lads and ladies, and I thought about Percy while I was with nearly all of them. I should have realized that I was in love with him when Sinjon Westfall said he would miss me over the Christmas holiday and I couldn't say the same because I was so excited to see Percy again. I should have known I was in love with Percy when we read one of Shakespeare's sonnets for a class and it made me think of him. I most certainly should have realized when Sinjon put a hand on my arm before hugging me and I thought of the way that Percy and I had almost hugged before I left for the first time.

But I didn't notice anything until I was home for good, trapped under my father's watchful eye like a beetle pinned to a board and hung in a frame. That's when I began to fall in love with Percy's kindness, with the way that he is so careful about everything he does. I fell in love with the way he made me feel loved, even though everyone else around me seemed to find me worthless to the extreme. Percy was the one person I could count on to not hate me at any given time, and I remain truly, deeply thankful to him for that. I have never found anyone who could quite replicate the sanctuary I found in Percy that first month back from Eton, and I doubt I ever will.

I think I fell, hard and fast, in that first month. I spent nearly every day with Percy, both of us desperate to escape a newfound truth, though he hid his from me. Neither of us could imagine a happy future, but there was no way out of the darkness ahead, so it was best to distract ourselves by spending time together. I fell into drinking, because that served as an equally good distraction, until I could barely get through a day without a drink. That and a slew of partners, though they were meant as a distraction both from my father's hatred and from Percy's lack of romantic interest in me. Most were an attempt to forget Percy, which was a deeply flawed strategy, because every kiss I imagined kissing him, and every escapade made me wish for him more. 

I still don't know how he put up with me in those days, despite my antics and my rakishness. I can never be thankful enough that he did.

-

Now, while I work on getting my balance back after having lost an ear, I'm confined to our little house in Greece. With me stuck at home and Felicity busy tending to me and looking after some members of Scipio's crew, Percy is the one to run our errands, and we end up falling back into the pattern we had when we were three. Every afternoon, I wait for him at the door and hug him when he arrives, usually just in time for tea. We then proceed to spend as much time together as we can get, just like when we were children, though that time now involves some activities best kept from children.

When I imagine a future with Percy, it is full of days like these and a continuation of the love that I've felt for him since I was three years old. 

It is a wonderful future indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got called away to help my grandparents entertain a family with two boys under seven, so it's been a bit chaotic over here.  
> -  
> I don't remember any scenes from when they were really young in the book, so excuse any errors there. I skimmed a few places I would have expected something, but I didn't re-read closely. If I messed up we'll call it an AU. 
> 
> I had them meet when they were three because according to high school psych, babies can start forming lasting memories at age 3 and I wanted Monty to remember it.
> 
> Also according to Wikipedia, boys go to Eaton at age 13, which is the same age Monty kisses Richard Peele (if I'm remembering right), hence Monty leaving before that kiss.  
> -  
> Next up is 'Agape: love of the soul; unconditional love' and y'all we got ANGST comin up. It's looking like all angst from here on out (love of soul, love of self, and love of children... angst city).  
> -  
> ALSO I'm realizing now there's a line (it's like five words lmao) here lifted directly from 'Les Miserables' (the Penguin Classics Denny translation), so if anyone's a giant nerd like me good luck finding it  
> -  
> Any feedback is appreciated! Comments will often inspire a writing binge, and kudos make me happy.
> 
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	5. Agape: Love of the Soul; Unconditional Love

Before embarking on this quest to understand love, 'agape' was the only one of the seven I'd heard of. I heard the word in church, when the preacher would read in Greek, droning on and on while Percy and I took turns poking each other to stay awake. Despite having heard it, though, I couldn't even begin to imagine an unconditional love. It was easier to imagine a love like the one I got from my family; deeply conditional on me being the son they wanted. That made sense. If I was good, I would be loved. But with everything I've done? The idea of someone loving me in spite of all of my flaws seemed impossible.

No one even offered me unconditional love until one night, about a month after we arrived in Greece.

-

I can't sleep. That isn't uncommon; sleep comes slowly to me these days, especially without alcohol to speed it along. But in my sleeplessness, with the boy I love quitely dozing beside me, I fall into thinking about all the things I've done to hurt him in the past. A parade of past lovers, each surely an insult or injury to Percy, crosses my mind. I remember the ways I teased him about being sick and mocked the things that were supposed to help cure him. I ignored all of the signs that it was something long-term and serious, too obsessed with my own pain to even imagine that he was going through something equally difficult. And when I found out about his epilepsy, I treated him differently because of it. I tried to give him another cure he didn't want, because I couldn't just accept that he is still the man I love, even with his epilepsy. There's my callousness, my drunkenness, my ignorance. The way I would start fights he never wanted and couldn't finish. There are a million different ways that I've hurt Percy, and yet he is still beside me, snoring softly and drooling into the pillow.

I don't deserve him.

Never in my disaster of a life have a done one thing to deserve a happy ending with the man of my dreams. There is nothing I have done that would make Percy love me and an overwhelming list of things I've done to make him hate me. No matter how many times he tells me he loves me, he can't, not really. Not after everything I've done; not while I'm as awful as I am.

He would argue with me about that. He would say I've done enough, but I know the truth. Despite my best efforts to fight them, the tears pry themselves from my eyes, and despite my better judgement, I move closer to Percy and cry into his chest. He's asleep, and hopefully he'll stay that way. By morning, the tears will have dried and there will be no trace of my shame or my fears. No matter what, I don't want him to find out how I feel. If he knows how undeserving of love I really am, he'll leave me faster.

The arms around me wrap tighter instinctually as I move closer. A few minutes later, as my tears slow, I hear Percy's sleepy voice say, "Monty? I love you. What's... is it alright?"

"Fine. Just... I'm fine." I'm trying to decide if wiping my eyes will make the tears more or less obvious. Probably more, so I resort to blinking a couple times and hoping that clears them well enough.

"No. You're not fine." He's moved an arm to rub his eyes, pushing his hair out of his face. I nearly let out a little whimper when it leaves my side. Now, while I try not to cry and do whatever I can to believe that he doesn't hate me, being wrapped in his arms helps more than I'd like to admit. When the arm wraps around me again, I am more relieved than I have words to describe.

"I am. I'm just... why did you stay friends with me?"

"Because I love you."

"Still? Even though I've been awful, and now I look... like this, and even though I wake you up in the middle of the night because I get scared?"

"Still. I will always love you, even when you wake me up in the middle of the night to be sure. And I never want you to think you can't ask, alright? If you ever aren't sure, just ask me, and I promise I will always tell you I love you."

"Even now?"

"Especially now. I love you." He presses a kiss to my forehead, then trails them down the scarred side of my face. They're sloppy, half-asleep kisses, and when he puts his head back on the pillow I think that's the end of it until he asks, "Do you believe me?"

And well. That is the question. Do I believe that Percy, perfect, wonderful Percy, loves me? Do I believe that anyone as wonderful as him could ever love someone as broken as me? Do I believe that he will stay with me through everything, even though I will never do anything but hurt him?

"I think you believe it. I... I want to. But I... someone like me... I guess it's just I don't think I'm very lovable. So it's not because of you, it's just who I am. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I'll help you believe me. I love you, and I'll help you understand just how very lovable you are."

He pulls me close, a hand behind my head playing with my hair. I fall asleep with his fingers still running across my scalp.

-

When I wake up the next morning, I make an effort to appreciate the moment and do my best to ignore the ache in my chest when I think about the night before. I refuse to let last night's insecurity ruin this morning's glory.

Waking up beside Percy remains one of the highlights of my day. It will likely always be a highlight, even after we have had thousands of mornings together, but now it is especially wonderful because it still feels new. Recovering from my lost ear has been a hassle, to say the least, and dealing with everything from the loss of balance to the scarring has been harder than I'd like to admit. But every morning, I get to wake up with my head pressed against Percy's chest, close enough to hear his heartbeat, and the joy of our life together makes it worth opening my eyes. Every time I do, I get to see Percy, the most wonderful, incredible, amazing person in the world, looking at me like I am someone worthy of admiration. I get to see him smile, at me, and I get to kiss him every morning. I get to taste his morning breath and see his truly atrocious bed head. It is, honestly, the most miraculous thing I could ever imagine. I try to bask in the glory of him and the joy of sharing the bed rather than wallowing in the irrefutable fact that I do not deserve this happiness. 

"Good morning, darling," Percy says, running his fingers through my hair, "If I tell you I love you, will you believe me?"

I freeze, and he smiles a bit and kisses my cheek. "It's alright if you don't. That won't change anything; I will still be very much in love with you."

"I want to believe you, but I... I don't deserve it. That makes it hard."

"It's alright. You don't... you don't have to do anything to deserve it; being loved isn't about earning or deserving anything. I know it's hard to understand that, and that's okay. I'll keep loving you, and someday, you'll believe me when I tell you that I love you."

And in that moment, I fall in love with him all over again. His patience and kindness are more than I could ever hope to earn, and yet he says he loves me. While I can't believe it, not really, because no one as wonderful as Percy could ever love someone as broken as me, it's nice to imagine.

-

We have the same conversation the next morning, and the morning after that, and the one after that. Percy will ask if I believe he loves me, and I'll tell him either that I'm unlovable or I don't deserve love like his, and he'll spend the rest of the day trying to convince me that I am somehow both lovable and deserving of love despite everything I've done.

Then, one night, it rains. It rains hard enough to wake him up, and I wake up because he's pulled me closer to him and pressed a kiss to my forehead. No matter how tired I am, my body refuses to let me sleep through even a single kiss from Percy. I open my eyes just enough to see him, nothing but a gorgeous shadow in the stormy night. Then someone walks by our window with a light, and for a few moments, he is illuminated, looking down at me. I can't read his expression in the darkness, especially not without alerting him to the fact that I'm awake, but the light is bright enough for me to see his mouth moving. I realize suddenly that I can feel the vibration of his chest where my head is leaning against it. He's saying something, talking only to himself and the darkness of the night.

I roll just enough to uncover my ear so that I can hear what he's saying, fully convinced that if it's about me, it will be negative. After all, he seems to have been talking for some time, and there are very few positive things he could say about someone like me. Perhaps he's trying to convince himself not to abandon me, preparing himself for another day chained to a useless disappointment. Maybe he's practicing letting me down gently, as if telling me that he doesn't want to do this slowly will keep it from ripping my heart out of my chest. Maybe he's just trying to find the words to tell me that he doesn't want to see me anymore, and that I might as well go back to my father because I'm worse than useless without the benefit of the family money.

When I uncover my ear, though, he's singing, so softly that I wouldn't hear it over the rain were I not held so close to him. It's a tune I've heard him play on his fiddle, but the words aren't ones I recognize. I'm having to strain to hear him, but when I make out the words, my breath catches.

He's making it up as he goes, but it's a song about me. Unbelievably, it's positive. He sings about my soft hair and my softer lips and the way he feels when I kiss him. The way our kisses make him feel like everything is alright, and like he could fight the whole world as long as he could kiss me again after. He sings to the darkness that I'm brave and kind, and that he likes spending time with me. That he loves falling asleep while I trace patterns on his chest and waking up to hear me snoring every morning. That every day he gets to spend loving me is a joy he never thought he would get. I fall back to sleep eventually, his voice filling my head with compliments.

The next morning, he wakes before me. That isn't unusual, but that fact that he stays in bed with me still feels like a reward I could never earn, especially this morning. I've stayed relatively still since waking up overnight, which means my ear is still uncovered enough that I get to wake up to him singing the same made-up song about me. He stops the moment I begin to stretch, in the middle of a bit about the color of my eyes, but I heard him. When I open those same eyes, there's a small smile on his face.

"Good morning, darling. I love you."

"I think... I think I believe you. I don't understand why you love me; I clearly don't deserve you. But I believe that you do, in fact, love me, even though I've been so god awful to you. I've done nothing to deserve you, but I think maybe that doesn't matter as much as I thought."

The smile that splits his face convinces me fully. He pulls me close, nearly crushing me with the force of his hug. "That's a start. I'm so proud of you, Monty, I really am. I love you, no matter what. If you believe me or you don't, if you think you've somehow earned it or not, if you understand or don't, it doesn't matter. I will never stop loving you, I promise."

I'm surprised to realize that I actually do believe him. I can believe for the first time that this lovely, wonderful boy loves me. He loves me enough to have made up a song about me, and to sing it to himself and the darkness of our room while I sleep. He loves me enough to put up with all of the horrid things I've done to him, and to continue to love me through them. He loves me enough to stay with me through all of the times I will inevitably hurt him and despite all the times I already have.

I know that I love Percy unconditionally. I have always loved him, even when I am angriest with him, and I always will. Actually beginning to let myself believe that he loves me the same way is the best thing I can imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact from ya local pastor's kid; 'agape' is the word that the Greek bits of the Bible use to describe God's love. I tried to keep it from reading too much like a religious adoration of Percy, but if it snuck in there that's why.  
> -  
> Next up is Philautia— Love of Self. And Ooh boy is that an angsty one for our boi. It's also shaping up to be pretty hefty; it's currently only about 500 words longer than this chapter was at the same stage and it's not done.  
> -  
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	6. Philautia: Love of Self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a whole lot of referenced emotional abuse.

Of all the types of love I planned to learn about, 'love of self' proves the hardest for me to master. Of course I can love Percy; I can hardly breathe _without_ thinking about how much I love him. I can even love Felicity relatively easily, in the moments where we are not at each other's throats. These days, sometimes I think we are even becoming something close to friends. Both of them are truly incredible people, full of patience and kindness when I'm being thick, and that makes it easy to love them. They're wonderful in every way, but then there's me. The dead weight, the disaster waiting to happen, the disgraced son. The liability. And since being shot, half of my face has become as smooth as a country road after a rainstorm, ruining my ability to charm people into helping us. My face was always my best feature, and I'd use to to win people over until my personality chased them away. But now I've lost my looks, now that I can no longer charm bank clerks into helping us or flirt my way into the bedrooms of dukes, I have nothing to offer. 

As I try to force myself to learn self-love, I realize that aside from the one, un-scarred side of my face, there is not a single thing about myself that I actually like. I seem to have taken all of the love inside me and thrown it out, targeting Percy and Felicity and Scipio and the rest of them without any thought of saving some for myself. But if I am to be happy, and by extension make Percy happy, I need to find some way to care about the horrid person that is Henry Montague. I know Felicity likes to make lists when she's upset about something, so I start one, using a quill and supplies from James Boswell's luggage.

'Halfway Decent Things About Monty'  
1\. I'm trying

I cross it out before I even finish the thought. Trying never helped anyone, not really. Trying to do something doesn't mean anything to anyone. I'm not sure how long I sit and stare at the list and the scribble, trying to think of anything worth writing, before Percy calls me from outside. It's long enough that the ink has dried fully, and I can crumple the paper and toss it at the chamber pot on my way out to find him. It was a worthless exercise anyway; there are nowhere near enough decent things about me to make any sort of list.

-

When I come inside after a walk the next day, I find the page on the table, smoothed out and held in place by Boswell's inkwell. There are two points on it now, the first in Percy's handwriting and the second, remarkably, in Felicity's. I wouldn't have thought her the sort to leave surprise compliments, but the fact remains that she has added a second point to my list.

'Halfway Decent Things About Monty'  
1. ~~I'm trying~~ You are the bravest person I have ever met  
2\. You're learning to listen to people  
3\. 

I sit down at the table with a deep breath, trying to think of a way to continue the list. I am clearly expected to write something following the number three, though I can't for the life of me imagine what might fit there. Still, now that the page in front of me is no longer blank, there is less pressure. The third position is much less important than the first, after all, and that gives me the courage to write: "3. My dimples".

I add a number four, then sit and stare at it, trying to think of something else to list. I can't list another physical feature, that seems both too shallow and certain to let the others know that there is nothing in me worth loving. All of my virtues are external, but I don't want the others to realize that. I'm still trying to find something when Percy comes into the room. His face softens when he sees the page in front of me, and he comes to stand behind me and drape his arms around my shoulders. After a moment or two, he leans over me to write: "4. You never let people doubt you love them. You love loudly". His chest is against my back, and his left arm is wrapped tight around my waist as he writes with his right. He behind and beside me, encompassing me nearly completely. I am wrapped up in the boy I love, surrounded by the love of my life and a list of reasons that I deserve to be loved in return. Somehow, I can't make myself believe any of it.

-

By that night, Felicity's handwriting has appeared under Percy's number four. "5. You are stronger than I ever knew". Six waits expectantly for me, and after two days, I scribble: "6. Threw a good punch once" just so it will stop staring me down every time I walk past the table. I hate the blank space too much to let it stay, and writing something that barely counts is better than leaving it empty.

It's no use. By the end of the day, Percy's handwriting has appeared after seven ("you fight for the people you love and will let nothing stop you") and Felicity has filled in the gap after eight ("you care more for the people you love than I could have guessed). Nine waits expectantly, the space after it just as intimidating as the space after the six was.

-

Percy finds me staring at that space the next day, and just like before, he comes to drape himself over my back, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my bad cheek before moving his head to rest on the shoulder near my remaining ear. 

"Why can't I do this? Why... why do you want me around? Why have you stuck with me for so bloody long; I'm... I'm a mess, Perce. I can't do anything right, and I cause more trouble than I'm worth. I ruin everything I touch, and I waste every opportunity that I get, and I... I'm just not worth it. I'm not worth you, or... or anyone caring about me. I'm just not; I don't have any redeeming qualities other than a face that used to be nice. I don't understand why you're still here when there's nothing even close to decent about me to keep you."

"Monty, darling, that's your father talking. I don't think you're a mess, or a waste, or anything like that. I never have. Your father is the only person to ever find you unlovable, and he was so incredibly wrong about you that I can't even put it into words. I stay with you because you're wonderful, and you make me happy, simple as that."

"But I... I can't do anything. When we were in Venice, when you asked me to run away and I nearly ruined everything, it... it wasn't because of your epilepsy or because I didn't love you or anything like that. I... I didn't want to run because I didn't want you to see how absolutely worthless I am. I was so scared that you would realize that I can't actually do anything on my own; I'm useless. You have your violin, and you're so smart, and so good at so many things. Even Felicity has practical skills, and she's brilliant and wonderful, but without my father's money, I'm only good for my sex and the color of my skin, and neither of those things should even matter."

"Hey, be nice. That's the love of my life you're talking about," Percy says, hugging me closer and kissing just above my ear. "Would you like me to tell you what I think about him? The man I'm in love with?" I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Percy's arms around me seem to have squeezed all the words out of my brain. He hums in my ear, then says, "Well, to start, at the risk of sounding like a young girl, he's got the most wonderful face. Lovely dimples, gorgeous eyes, and he's recently acquired some new scars that make him look absolutely dashing. He doesn't like them, but I am determined to kiss every one and change his mind. But the man I love is so much more than a devilishly handsome face. He is the most stubborn man I have ever met, and I mean that as a compliment, because once he gets started with something he won't ever abandon it. He would go to the ends of the earth to make sure that the people he loves are alright, and I have no doubt he would do anything for me. While I admit he's been a bit of a rake in the past, he has learned to see how that hurt people, and he is getting so much better. He's learning from and trying to correct his mistakes, starting with taking an interest in his sister. I have been truly blessed to get to see them learn to love each other.  
"The Monty I am in love with has the best heart of anyone I have ever met. At his core, in his heart of hearts, he just wants happiness for the people he loves and a good time for everyone around him. He's friendly, he's generous, and he can make anyone, even a colored bastard, feel welcome anywhere. With him, it is unbelievably easy to forget that there are people in the world who would be cruel to me. He... he seems to soak up all the world's cruelty in order to protect his friends from it. He has been through hell, truly, and I think he still carries bits of that hell inside him. But he uses those fires to light the way for everyone around him, no matter how much it hurts. Maybe... maybe he'll carry those bits of hell with him always, but it doesn't matter. I mean, of course it matters some, because they hurt him and I hate that. But they don't change who he is, not really, because he is still kind and self-sacrificing and determined and wonderful."

"He sounds nice," I say, fighting to keep my voice even. "I think I'd like to meet him some day."

"Who would you like to meet?" Felicity has appeared in the doorway, and while Percy would typically move away to help her feel more comfortable, he stays right where he is. I am incredibly grateful. I need him right now; his moving away would feel like a rejection of me and a confirmation of all the awful things I believe about myself. I need him close to reassure me that there is a shred of something worth protecting in me, however infinitesimal it may be. Without him holding me together, his chest pressed to my back and arms wrapped around me, I think I might fall apart.

"The wonderful man I'm in love with. Would you care to tell Monty about how lovely your brother is?"

"Alright." She looks a bit confused, but she sits down across the table from me and says, "You-- I mean, my brother Monty knows more about people than I think I ever will. I used to hate him because he was so good at talking to them and I am so awful at it. He's brilliant in social situations, and he's gotten us out of quite a few dangerous scrapes and nearly disastrous situations with his quick thinking and his ability to read people. I... I study the body. I know, or at least I'm learning, how it works and what to do when it doesn't. But my brother studies people as a whole, body and brain and clothes and expressions and presentation all together. It's something I can never learn from books or charts, but he knows who people are and what they need and how to convince them to help us just by looking at them. He once convinced a bank to give us money using charm alone. He could probably use those skills for bad things, but he wouldn't. He's too good for that. I... I don't think he's ever intentionally done a bad thing in his life. He's done quite a few careless or daft things that have gotten people hurt, but nothing truly, inherently bad. He's a good person, and he's becoming a better one."

She holds her hands out, almost shyly, and I slip mine into them. She squeezes, a bit too tight, but she's trying. I squeeze back and offer her a little smile.

"He... this man sounds wonderful. But he... he's not me. I'm not kind, or... or welcoming, or smart. I was stupid enough to get thrown out of Eton, after all."

"Monty, what happened with Eton has nothing to do with how smart you are." I never thought I'd have my sister telling me I was smart, especially now that I've learned how brilliant she is, but apparently I've fooled her. "You're brilliant, truly, in a way that schools don't measure. Your quick thinking saved us all at the carnival, and at the bank, and if you'd been the one to talk to the captain on that first xebec, we wouldn't have had to sneak aboard and probably wouldn't have even been charged. I wouldn't have been surprised to see you charm the captain into changing course because you knew exactly what buttons to press and levers to pull to convince him to help us. You saved us from the navy, too, because you knew how to tell them what they needed to hear, and you got Mr. Robles to give up the combination for his box, offering his wife and his entire life's work to a total stranger. Those are just the things I've noticed since the highwaymen in France; I'm sure there are thousands of other brilliant things you've done that I've missed over the years."

Before I can refute everything she's saying by pointing out that I was idiotic enough to steal from Versailles and turn our tour into a disaster in the first place, Percy speaks up from behind me.

"And you are welcoming, Monty. You can find a way to make anyone feel special. No matter who they are or what the world tells you about them, even if it's just for a bit, you make people feel important. You... my own family wouldn't eat dinner with me sometimes, Monty. I know... I know I've told you it wasn't too bad, but that hurts. You have never once asked me to leave or treated me badly because of the color of my skin. You are, honestly, one of the most welcoming people I know. Besides that, you are so wonderfully kind. Your refusal to let anything go, and your determination to stand up for me... I've been annoyed by them, but I think I understand now. I saw you picking fights, but you were just trying to show love and kindness the best way you knew, and that... that's wonderful. I swear sometimes you actually believe that other people can learn to look past my skin color, and that... I love that about you."

"Of course they can learn to accept you. They should; the color of your skin is beautiful and doesn't mean anything."

"And I love you for believing that. You... I think you want people to be good, and even after everything we've been through, part of you still hopes that the world is kind. I think that's amazing, that even when we've all been through so much that's bad, you can still hope for something better."

"Well you're so good, and... and kind and wonderful. I don't understand how people can be cruel to you. You're kind to the world, so it should be kind back. Just like--" I stop abruptly, but I know one of them is going to press it. I can tell Felicity's about to ask, so I mutter, "just like how I was awful to you, and then the world was awful back. The world gave me what I deserve, the least it could do is afford you the same privilege."

I thought Percy was hugging me before, but once the words are out, he's somehow moved us so that I'm sitting on his lap, able to lean my good ear on his chest and drown out the world in the sound of his heartbeat. I resist the urge, which means I get to hear him say, "Monty, nothing you ever did, have done,or could do could ever justify the way you were treated. You are a good person, Monty Montague, but even if you weren't... your father wasn't angry with you for anything you could control. You said yourself; if you could have given it all up you would have. I know just as well as you that liking lads isn't something you choose or decide. It's just something that happens to us, and Felicity proved we're not alone in it.  
"So yes, you've made some mistakes. That's alright. I have, too; I've hurt you and hidden things from you and treated you poorly. But those mistakes aren't the reason your father was cruel to you. And I think at some point, we... we need to be able to forgive ourselves. I've forgiven you, and I'll keep loving you no matter what, but I... I want you to be happy. I love you so, so, so very much, and I want you to be as happy as you make me. You don't have to keep doing this if you don't want to, but I think... I think that learning to be alright with yourself would be a step in the right direction."

I free one hand from Felicity's grasp first to wipe my eyes, then to pick up the pen and write: "9. I think I make people happy". 

Percy takes the pen from me, crosses out "I think", and adds: "10. You make me so overwhelmingly happy". He kisses me, and by the time we've pulled apart, Felicity's written: "11. You are so good at reading people". 

It's my turn. Typically, it would take a few days for me to think of anything worth enjoying about myself, possibly leading to another melt down like today's. But instead, I take the paper and write: "12. I have good taste in lads". Percy laughs as he leans over my shoulder to read it, then adds: "13. You are a fantastic lover". 

"14. You don't intentionally hurt people, and I'm not sure you ever have".

Fifteen. I freeze up. Which of their compliments can I actually believe? They have told me so many wonderful things about myself, but most of them don't make any sense. At least half were likely made up on the spot, destined to make me smile but mean nothing. Then I think of Percy, eating dinner in the kitchen while his family entertained guests upstairs. I think about Scipio and his crew, left to die in a prison an ocean away from home. I have done some truly harmful things, but I could never even imagine doing anything like that, so I write: "15. I accept people". I can at least acknowledge that I am not as bad as some others, and maybe that is a step in the right direction. 

"That's what made me fall in love with you," Percy says softly, looking at the list. "The... it was early on, just before you left for Eton. Your parents were having friends over, and you wanted me to stay for dinner, too. You couldn't understand why I should be excluded, and I... I fell in love then. Because you have always cared for me in spite of my skin, and I know if you could, you would force the rest of the world to do the same. Now, of course, there are a million other reasons I'm in love with you, but that was the start."

"I... I don't love you in spite of the color of your skin, Perce. It's just part of the you that I love. It's... it's like your freckles or your eyes or anything else on your face; I love it because I love you. Like... like how maybe you don't love me in spite of my scarring." Every instinct tells me to look down, or to bring my hand up, or do _something_ to hide the scarred side of my face. I want to look away, to keep him from seeing just how scared I am that he will reject me. But I fight those instincts, instead lifting my face to meet Percy's eyes. My scarring is on full display, but he meets my eyes and smiles at me like I am the most beautiful thing in the world.

"I'm so proud of you, Monty. So, so proud. I... I know you'll be alright in the end, because the whole world told you that you should hate me, or... or at least look down on me, but you refused. You went against all of polite society and decided to love me anyway. Only a few people have ever told you not to love yourself, and if you can ignore everyone we know to love me, I know you can ignore them and learn to love yourself just as much."

Felicity has disappeared, so I don't hesitate to kiss him. 

-

The next morning, I find the list on the table beside our bed, the title rewritten in Felicity's handwriting: " ~~Halfway Decent~~ Actually Wonderful Things About Monty".

Below that title are fifteen things about myself that I don't hate, and that I can try to learn to appreciate more. I can memorize these fifteen things, and I can ignore my father's voice in my head and learn to like at least these pieces of myself no matter what he says. And after that, once I have acknowledged fifteen decent things about myself, maybe Percy and Felicity will help me find fifteen more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact; James Boswell (whose luggage/papers they steal and use in the book and whose inkwell they use here) was a real person! He kept a journal while he was in London and he was a MESS of a person. Great read; it's a constant cycle of 'I got drunk and embarrassed myself I'm never drinking again oh no I got drunk and embarrassed myself'. Truly an icon.  
> -  
> We're almost there! The next (and last) chapter is "Storge: Love of Children, Effortless Love" and ooph. Scipio's in it and I would die for him so of course he deserves a deeply tragic backstory. I skimmed through a few key points and didn't see anything about his backstory, so I gave him one and it hurt just a lil.  
> -  
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


	7. Storge: Love of Children, Effortless Love

When I see 'love of children' on the list, I nearly give up right then. It feels impossible for me to understand the love of children, firstly because I have no children to love, and unless I completely misunderstand the process, I will never have any. Secondly, and perhaps more relevantly, though, is the fact that I cannot even imagine what a parent's unconditional love for a child would look or feel like. Neither our family nor the Newtons were particularly loving of the children in their care, and I have never been good enough friends with another family to see if the parents love their children. I can't help but doubt it, with the number of boys at Eton who would stay at school year round if they could.

Effortless love makes sense, though. Loving Percy, and learning to love Felicity, Scipio, and the whole crew of the _Eleftheria_ comes as naturally as breathing. Especially following the task of learning to love myself, which is a daily battle and may well be something I spend the rest of my life working on, I'm sure loving nearly anyone else would be effortless. I assume that effortless love is good enough and have all but given up on fully understanding the 'love of children' bit until the day before we leave Santorini.

-

Before we leave for good, the crew of the _Eleftheria_ want to sail around the island a bit to make sure that everything is still in working order. Felicity says it would be good for me to get some practice walking the deck now that I am short one ear, and Percy says it would be nice to spend a day with me out on the ocean, which is how I find myself clinging to the railing of an increasingly unsteady ship, watching the solid ground of Santorini slip away. This is a bad idea. I've just gotten used to the ground's refusal to stand quite still, and now I find myself on a surface that is actually moving, which is a million times worse. Percy is somewhere on board, but he's steady enough on his feet to actually be of some help in the casting off process and has been called away, leaving me to keep hold of both the railing and my breakfast as best I can.

I sense someone come up beside me and turn, expecting Percy, but I find Scipio there, his hands wrapping around the railing we painted together next to mine as we watch the coast fall away together. The casting off process must have gone alright, if he is able to come stand beside me instead of barking orders or leading his crew, but Percy is nowhere to be seen. Still, a conversation with Scipio is far from the worst thing I could imagine. I'm grateful when he is the one to initiate it.

"Percy said you've been walking better?"

"I suppose. It's not easy, but I... I'm less tipsy than I have been in quite a long time, in both senses of the word." I smile, hoping to brush off my initial hesitation with the awful joke. He doesn't return my smile. He studies me for a moment, then puts an arm around my shoulders and, rather than pulling me to him and upsetting my balance, he moves closer to me until it becomes a proper side hug.

"I'm proud of you, Henry. You're a good man."

My mouth opens, but I can't find any words to push out of it. I don't know how to explain or express what exactly those words mean, and I can't find a joke to laugh them off, no matter how badly I want to. I can't remember the last time an adult was proud of me, though I know it has been at least two years.

"Thank you, Sir," I say eventually, mostly just to have something, anything, to say at all. "I... that means a lot. Really, I'm not just... it does. Ask Perce or anyone; I'm not the kind of person you or anyone else should be proud of, but it's nice that you think I am. Thank you."

"You're too hard on yourself, boy, always have been. Now, got your sea legs yet? There's another boxing lesson in your future if you'd like it." He's broken off our hug and moved away a bit, already shaking out his arms and getting ready to teach me. I have to smile.

"Maybe not quite yet." As if to prove my point, the ship hits a wave big enough to send me stumbling over and crashing into Scipio rather spectacularly. I expect him to shove me off, but he catches me and holds me steady until he's sure I've got my feet solidly under me again, hands gripping the railing. The little "Thanks" I respond with doesn't seem like enough, but I'm not sure how to explain what it feels like to have anyone other than Percy do something like that for me. I can't tell him how long it's been since it felt like I had anyone but Percy on my side and trying to help me, at least not without getting into a long conversation beginning with the story of how my family hated me and ending in tears I'll be embarrassed of immediately. I glance over at him again, and he's studying me with an expression I can't quite read. 

"You know why King George ended up with us?" He asks, leaning on the rail beside me and staring out at the ocean. "He ran away from home and got sold to the same slavers as me, about five miles from his hometown. Halfway to England, he told me that he wasn't afraid of what was coming for us, because it couldn't be any worse than what he'd left behind. And I realized that not all his bruises or scars were from the time we'd spent as captives, and I started to notice the way he'd flinch long before anyone hit him, and the way he'd stay curled into a ball long after they left. When we were sold, I stuck close to him, and we ended up on the same crew."

I glance over, but he still has his eyes on the tiny dot of Santorini. He sighs, then says, "I'm not sure where he was before; we... remembering is hard for most of us. Some of us had whole lives before this one. Families, friends, everything. I had two boys. They were caught up in the same raid I was, and word has it they're at the bottom of the Atlantic now, somewhere between Barbary and Virginia. A man from their ship found his way onto ours while we were still sailing for the crown and said they tried to fight back, led a failed mutiny and paid for it with their lives.  
"We lost their mother when they were babies. I tried to do right by them, and every day I wonder if I went wrong somewhere. Maybe I should have taught them less about fighting back and more about staying alive. But then I see King George, or you, Henry, and I... I think I did alright. Because someone taught the two of you to live your lives with your tail between your legs, and that... that's no way to live."

"You should be proud of them. Your sons, I mean. They were brave. You... you're a good father, Scipio. Better than any I've ever known, though I suppose that's not a difficult thing."

I feel his eyes on me, but now it's my turn to stare at the horizon and avoid his gaze. He rests a hand on my shoulder and squeezes a bit, and I say, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to lose them like that."

"I'm sorry, too. About losing them, and about your father. You didn't deserve what he did to you any more than I deserved to lose my boys."

"If you'd known me then, you wouldn't think that. I was a scoundrel; I brought it on myself."

"No. No one deserves anything like that, Henry, and no loving parent would treat their son so badly."

"Yes, well, he... neither of my parents were the most loving of people. At least Felicity turned out alright, though." I'm not sure if it's meant to be a joke or not, but neither of us laugh. I'm not sure how to read the silence that has settled over us without looking at him, but I'm afraid if I look, I'll see just how pathetic he thinks I am. I'll catch him in the moments before he can look at me with something other than disgust or pity, and it ruin me. I risk a glance, because knowing he pities me for certain is better than hoping for the impossible. To my surprise, it's not a sneer I see on his face. He is studying me, but not the way one would study a bug on the wall.

After a moment, he meets my eyes and says, "You're going to be alright, too. If I know you, you'll be alright. If... if my boys had gotten to Virginia, or England, or anywhere else where they would have gone through something like what happened to you, I would want them to come out of it like you have. You're brave, Henry. Brave and smart, and you didn't let your father get that out of you. That's... that's what I would want for my boys. That they stay brave and keep standing up for themselves."

His voice catches, and it hits me suddenly. He loves his sons. They're both gone, but he still loves them deeply and entirely. He loves them as much as I love Percy, though the love is different. But in that moment, staring at the horizon where Santorini used to be, Scipio looks like he might cry. It's my turn to wrap an arm around him, letting go of the railing carefully as I do. He leans into my hug, which is good, because I'm not sure I trust my balance enough to move toward him.

"That's what they did. They were brave to the end," I tell him, and he nods. "You... you should be proud of them."

"I am. They... they were good boys."

"Would you like to tell me about them? You don't have to, of course, but if it would help I'd like to listen."

So, for the next thirty minutes, Scipio tells me about his sons. We both cry, him for a family he lost and me for a family I never had, but we laugh, too. When he finishes, we are both silent for a moment before he says, "I've never told anyone all that. It... it's been years since I saw them, but you're the first person I've ever talked to about everything."

"Did it... did it help? To talk about them?"

He hesitates a moment, then nods. "It's nice to remember them. I... too often, I try not to remember, but that just makes things harder. It was good to remember them at a time like this, when things are alright and I can focus on the good memories. And it's nice to share their story with someone. They deserve that, and it's the least I can do for them now."

"I'm proud of you. I can't imagine how awful it must have been to lose them, but you... you didn't get angry or anything. You just kept looking after people. I mean, you created a whole crew as your family here, and you... you helped the three of us. You've helped us so much, Scipio; I can't thank you enough. You're the only reason any of us are alive."

"Nonsense; you're smart. You would have worked something out without us."

"I may have worked something out, but then I would have fallen into a Venetian canal with whatever idea I had still stuck in my mind."

"Your Percy would have fished you out," he says, smiling. "You would have been alright. But you... you hold onto that boy, Henry, you hear me? Him and your sister both. You three are a family now, just like me and my crew. Look after each other."

"Yes, Sir. That won't be a problem."

"Well, keep them close, and you'll be alright. A family like that is worth fighting for." I nod,and when Scipio looks over my left shoulder, I follow his gaze to see Percy coming toward us with a small smile on his face.

"Hello, darling. Sorry to leave you, but King George wanted to show me a few knots so I can be more helpful once we sail out. How's your balance?"

"Haven't had much reason to test it. Scipio and I have been talking about families. The ones we're related to, and the ones we found for ourselves."

"No matter where you come from or what happened there, you three are your own family now. Look after each other," Scipio says, and Percy wraps his arms around my neck from behind. 

Scipio goes to make sure everything is running smoothly, and I lean back into Percy and say, "I think I understand loving children now. When... even before we'd been to Venice, before we knew him much at all, Scipio taught me how to throw a punch. He saw how bad I flinched when he pretended to hit me, so he made me learn how to hit back. I could have used it against him, or he could have just ignored the flinch, but he didn't. He helped me, for... for no reason but that I needed it. All he said he'd do was take us to Venice, but he's done so much more for all of us, just because we need his help. Maybe that's what parents are supposed to do for children, too."

Percy hums against my back, and we stare out into the ocean. Leagues away, Scipio's sons are sleeping under waves just like these. And he loves them, still. He will always love them, and he will always miss them, and I know he will always help people who remind him of them. I count myself fortunate to have gotten even a glimpse of that love.

-

I continue to glimpse it our whole trip back to England. I see Scipio's love for his sons in his affection for King George and in the way he looks out over the Atlantic in quiet moments. I see it in our boxing lessons and in the way he rivals me for the loudest cheer after every one of the songs Percy plays for us on long nights under the stars. I see effortless love in the way he continues to ask Felicity to join them, increasing the dramatics every time until it becomes a running joke between them. But more than anything, I see it in the way he always comes up on my left side, making sure not to startle me. I see it in his steadying arm, offered subtly on rougher days when I stray too far from anything sturdy. I feel it in the knowledge that if I need help, Scipio will help me to the best of his ability. Scipio loves us, loves me, and he cares for all three of us like it is the most natural thing in the world. 

If that isn't effortless love, I'm not sure what is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! We did it!  
> -  
> I couldn't remember Scipio (or King George) having a backstory in the book, and a quick google search didn't show me anything, so this is where we're at. If Lee gave him a backstory, then this is an AU.  
> -  
> I'm done with this fic, BUT I am far from done writing about these two. I've got a sick fic and a 'Percy's birthday' fic started, and I'm eyeballing a college AU and a longer period piece (if research doesn't kill me). So there's more coming! Let me know if y'all really want any of these and I'll see what the muses think. They're on a bit of a Les Mis kick right now, but we'll see what happens.  
> -  
> As always, I'm [HMS-Chill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hms-chill) on tumblr for fic stuff and [Hschill5](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hschill5) for anything else! If you wanna leave a comment/kudos/whatever either here or over on tumblr, I'd love that! Cheers!


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